


Kom Wamplei (To the Death)

by 4Lorn



Series: Sut en Jus (Dust and Blood) [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Clarke is a badass in this one, Commander Lexa, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heda, Heda Lexa, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, OC, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Original Character(s), Wanheda Clarke Griffin, challenge, fight to the death, wanheda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4Lorn/pseuds/4Lorn
Summary: Clarke is challenged for her power as Wanheda, just like Nia challenged Lexa for her position as Heda. But this challenge is different for both Lexa and Clarke, and maybe this time, there is no happy ending.





	Kom Wamplei (To the Death)

**Author's Note:**

> Another one set in a non-canon, in which Lexa never died.
> 
> On another note, I'm not sure whether to call these two women or girls? Any suggestions/opinions?

_Kom Wamplei_

(To the Death)

"Next."

The small man standing before the throne bows once more before exiting the room, muttering, " _Mochof, mochof,"_ the entire way. He had come representing a small village to the south, nestled in between two different clans. Their latest catch of fish had been lower than expected, and with an agreement between the Shallow Valley and Broadleaf ambassadors, Lexa had been able to send him off with the promise of food for his people in exchange for future catches.

Today is the day of weekly audiences. As per a decree set forth by Lexa just over a year prior, representatives from across the Coalition were able to present their requests to the Commander and Ambassadors concerning smaller issues that were not otherwise dealt with in the Assembly. These requests could range from pleas for food and water, appeals for warriors to kill off a particularly aggressive wolf pack, or even entreaties for builders to assist in construction projects. These days always seem tedious to Clarke, but over time, she's grown accustomed to the constant stream of people coming in and out, often until sundown. The Assembly has already taken their meal break, and Clarke is looking forward to a warm bath and a quiet night.

As the representative scuttles out of the chamber, another enters. This man is a complete contrast to the previous one. Rather than lithe and small, this representative is large and broad-shouldered. He stands nearly six feet tall and his arms ripple with muscle. There is an empty scabbard strapped to his back and his brown hair is tied into several braids. Clarke can tell he is a warrior. The kind of person who rarely shows on this day of the week.

The man kneels in front of the throne. " _Heya, Heda, Bandrona_ ," he greets, head bowed. " _Ai laik Everet kom Boudalankru_."

"What brings you here?" Lexa's nudge towards English is obvious.

The man lifts his head. His eyes are a dark hazel. "I come seeking power."

Lexa lifts her chin a little. "What is it you seek? Warriors? Beasts?"

The man shakes his head.

"Well?" the Ambassador from Shallow Valley demands. "Spit it out."

The man looks up at Lexa. "Permission to stand,  _Heda_?"

Lexa nods. "Granted."

The man gets to his feet. He looks straight at Clarke and locks eyes with her for a long moment. Then he glances back at the Ambassador of Rock Line. "First," he says, his voice booming now. "My leader, nor my Ambassador decreed this. This is a choice of my own, meant to honor my clan and my village, but it was not commanded of me."

"What is it?" Lexa hisses. She is suspicious now, and she's losing patient.

The man looks right at Clarke again. " _Wanheda_ ," he says, and Clarke immediately schools her expression into one of neutrality. "I challenge you."

There is a sharp silence. Then, Lexa's voice, cold, "Excuse me?"

"No disrespect,  _Heda_ ," Everett hurries to say. He doesn't look scared, though. "My fight is with  _Wanheda_ , and  _Wanheda_ alone."

" _Wanheda_  is under  _my_ protection," Lexa snaps.

"I do not wish to challenge her for the sake of harming her," Everett explains. "I want her power, not her life."

"Then you have committed a grave mistake," Lexa replies. Her expression is hard. " _Wanheda_ has given her power to me, and it is mine."

Everett looks intensely confused. " _Heda_ -"

" _Wanheda's_ power is her own." Clarke's voice cuts clearly through the quiet room. "It's true that I gave the Commander my power when I bowed to her on the night of the initiation of  _Skaikru_." Clarke pauses and locks eyes with Lexa. She's saying this as much to her as she is to Everett, trying to explain what she is about to do. "But the power of death is still mine." She looks at Everett. "And you want it."

Everett simply stares back and nods.

"If that's what you want, then take it." The entire room sucks in a quick breath, but then Clarke gets to her feet, and it releases. She moves towards Everett until they are standing face-to-face, nearly touching each other. He towers above her, but she refuses to back down. "But you'll have to kill me for it."

Everett smirks down at her. "So be it. I say again: I challenge you."

"And I accept your challenge."

"If this is a fight for the power of  _Wanheda_ , it will be one between the two of you," Lexa warns. "You cannot choose champions in this fight."

"I know," is the unanimous answer, and Lexa glowers down at the both of them.

Everett glances out the window at the setting sun. "Tomorrow, at sunrise," he says. "We fight to the death."

* * *

Clarke lets out a very deep, long breath as the door behind her shuts. She's in her room now, and it is well past sundown. After issuing the challenge, Everett had exited the chamber, a smug smirk on his face. Clarke, along with the rest of the Assembly, had to sit through several more hours of uneventful audiences. But she hardly remembers any of them. Her mind had been elsewhere, stuck on a challenge and the possibility of her death.

Clarke moves to her bed and sits on the edge of the mattress, burying her fingers into the furs. The possibility of her own death is nothing new to Clarke. She's been through enough hell and death and survival that the thought of dying hardly phases her anymore. But there have been few occurrences in which she's had so much time to consider it. The days before the Mountain had given her too much time to think, and this feels a lot like that.

"Clarke?"

Lexa is quiet when she enters, and so is her voice. She closes the door softly behind her. The Commander's cloak is gone now. Of course it is. When she sees Clarke, her bent form perched on the edge of the bed, she moves quickly to her. She kneels in front of her and takes Clarke's hands in her own.

"Are you okay?" she asks immediately, urgent now.

"I'm fine," Clarke assures her. "Just…thinking."

"About?"

"The challenge." It surprises Clarke how she doesn't mind admitting it. But Lexa seems to have that effect on her.

Lexa shakes her head. "Thinking is one of the worst things you can do before a fight," she tells Clarke.

"I know," Clarke is quick to say. "But I think a lot."

The ghost of a smile touches Lexa's face. "I know you do."

They sit there like that in expectant silence, each waiting for the other to speak. They look at each other for a while, before Lexa lets out a small breath and looks down. After another moment, she sighs and looks back up.

"Why did you do it Clarke?" she asks.

"Do what?" Clarke says, though she already knows what Lexa is asking.

"Why did you accept Everett's challenge?" Lexa's voice is a little angry. "Everyone knows your power is also my own. I could have accepted the challenge. I could have fought for you. I still can."

Clarke is shaking her head before Lexa has even finished talking. "You can't Lexa."

"I am  _Heda_." Lexa's voice is a growl now. "I can. The thirteenth clan is part of the Coalition now. You are an Ambassador, and they are under my protection.  _You_ are under my protection. As  _Heda_ I-"

"As  _Wanheda_ , I have to do this," Clarke snaps. She stops, takes a deep breath, and continues, softer now, "Lexa, this isn't about my people. It's not about me being an Ambassador or even me being Clarke." She motions to herself. "It's about  _Wanheda_. Everett wants the power of death, and this is a fight for it."

"But your power is  _my_ power," Lexa insists.

"That may be true," Clarke replies calmly. "But the Commander is not  _Wanheda_. You have some of that power, but the source of it is me. It comes from me, and he wants the source." Lexa opens her mouth again, but Clarke cuts her off. "This isn't a fight about rank, Lexa. It's not about a position like fighting for Commander is. This is about power. The idea of it. I gave some of that power to you, but its  _my_ power. That was why I had to give it to you in the first place, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Lexa, this has to be my fight. You want peace, don't you?"

Lexa lowers her eyes to the ground. Her voice is quiet. "Yes."

"This is one of the things that has to happen to keep that," Clarke says. "If I don't fight, if you fight for me instead, people will think I'm weak, and that will make you weak too. We can't let people doubt our strength. Not right now."

Lexa's shoulders slump. She nods.

"Lexa?" Clarke says. She reaches out and cups her cheek, and Lexa finally looks up at her, eyes full of sadness. "Do you trust me?"

"I do," Lexa all but whispers. There is no trace of doubt in her voice.

"Then let me do this," Clarke tells her gently. "Let me fight, and trust me to win."

Lexa doesn't answer for a long, long time. She just looks at Clarke, searching her face. For a flicker of doubt, maybe, but Clarke cannot afford to doubt this. Finally, she nods. "Okay."

Clarke lets out a breath. "Okay." She draws her hand back and lies on her back so she is staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, Lexa stands and moves towards the door. Clarke sits up quickly.

"Lexa?" The girl looks back at her. "Stay?"

For a moment, Clarke thinks she'll refuse, but then she sits beside her on the bed, though she does not lay down. She simply sits there, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor, hunched in a way Clarke sees only when the Commander feels completely and utterly defeated, an occasion which is rare in itself. It makes Clarke sad, so she reaches out and gently grips Lexa's bicep. The other girl glances back at her.

"Come on,'' Clarke says, and when she doesn't respond, "Please, Lexa. For me?"

That convinces her. Lexa nods and leans back so she is lying beside her. Clarke turns on her side and Lexa does the same, so they are facing each other. They study each other's faces. Clarke doesn't know what Lexa is looking for, but all that Clarke can find in her expression is concern and what looks almost like…panic?

Clarke reaches out and smooths the worry lines in Lexa's brow. "You're scared," she observes.

"I…" Lexa swallows hard. "Yes."

"Why?"

"You know why, Clarke," Lexa says, sounding a little frustrated.

"You can't always protect me, Lexa," Clarke murmurs. "You know that."

"I know that," Lexa agrees. Clarke thinks she will say something else, but she doesn't, so for a while, they just lay there in silence. Lexa won't meet her eyes, so Clarke studies the way she is laying instead: one arm tucked beneath her head, the other bent across her chest, her hand gripping her opposite shoulder.

Suddenly, Lexa moves. She wraps her arm around the small of Clarke's back and pulls her in, tucking her into her body, wrapping around her, surrounding her. Clarke lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and feels the day drain from her body. She wraps her arms around Lexa's torso and tucks her nose into the crook of her neck, breathing against her collarbone.

"I might not win, Lexa," Clarke admits.

"I know."

She doesn't say anything else. She doesn't need to.

"Stay?" Clarke whispers.

"Of course," Lexa murmurs. "Always."

* * *

The sun rises too soon. Clarke didn't sleep well. She rarely does. But neither did Lexa, neither  _does_ Lexa. They often spend their sleepless night talking or… other things. But the prior night was spent mostly in silence, just being in the presence of each other's company. This isn't the first time they've done this, but it may be the last.

Clarke gets up first. Lexa is awake, of course, so when she begins to pull away, she lets her go. Clarke moves to the table to look over the skins where she wraps all of her extra weapons, aside from the many on her person. Clarke turns to Lexa as the Commander sits up.

"Am I only allowed one sword?" Despite seeing a challenge before, Clarke has never bothered to learn the rules. She chides herself for it now, but she never expected this particular situation would come to pass.

Lexa shakes her head. "No. But you are allowed only a single weapon."

Clarke narrows her eyes. "You and Roan used two weapons."

To Clarke's surprise, Lexa smirks. "Yes, we did." Her expression turns serious again. "However, Roan took the spear from a guard, and I took his sword. There is only the weapon you bring, and the weapons that are present."

Clarke bites her lip and nods. "I don't suppose I could bring my gun?"

Lexa pauses, looking at the pistol on the table beside Clarke. A gift from Titus,, albeit a very suspicious one. Clarke rarely keeps the firearm on her, but the bullets remain in her pockets day and night.

"You can," Lexa says slowly. "But-"

"But it's never been done before," Clarke guesses. "And it doesn't exactly live up to the reputation of  _Wanheda_."

Lexa nods.

Clarke sighs. "Okay." She begins to slide knives from the many hiding spots within her clothes. They are everywhere, at her shoulders and forearms, her calves, feet, and thighs. There are a few nestled around her waist and one at the back of her neck. Once she's removed them all, she begins to strip herself of her furs.

"What is your plan, Clarke?" Lexa asks. Clarke can sense a lesson coming on and she smiles to herself.

"I'm undressing," Clarke states blatantly, looking over her shoulder. "Wanna help?"

Almost immediately, red blooms across Lexa's face. She coughs into her fist. "Uhm… If you need assistance-"

Clarke laughs. "I'm kidding, Lexa." Then the seriousness of the situation comes back to her. "I want to be as free as possible. Everett is way bigger than me, there's no way I'll be able to outmatch him with strength. So I'll have to outpace him. I'm going to need to be as fast as I can be, which means I need to be as light as possible."

Lexa nods, seemingly glad to be moving on from the previous topic. "That is smart. And for your weapon?"

"Actually…" Clarke grunts as she pulls her furs over her head. She turns to Lexa. "I need one of your guards' spears. The same kind that Roan used."

"Why…?"

"Just trust me, Lexa," Clarke implores. "Please."

Lexa takes a moment before nodding firmly. She moves swiftly to the door and sticks her head out. Clarke hears her speaking in Trigedasleng to someone outside. There is the reply of a deep voice before Lexa strides back in, spear in hand. As she hands it over, Clarke silently apologizes to the poor guard just outside the door who donated it.

Lexa watches Clarke as she studies her new weapon. After a moment, she starts, "Clarke-"

Just then, there is a sound, a low, haunting noise that Clarke has heard before. The horn.

It's time.

Clarke whirls on Lexa, spear in hand, chest tight. "Lexa-"

But Lexa doesn't need her to say anything. She's there, hands on her cheeks, holding her face. She gently grabs the spear from Clarke and leans it back against the table.

"Lexa, if I don't win-" Clarke feels almost panicked trying to get these next words out.

"I know, Clarke," Lexa says. She is looking into her eyes, stroking her cheeks with her thumbs, trying to drink her in. "I'll take care of them. I promise. I swear it."

Clarke nods. She believes her. She has to. Lexa and Clarke are the only ones who have stood between their people and war countless times. Clarke has to trust that Lexa can do it again. She does trust her.

Suddenly overwhelmed with that trust, Clarke pulls Lexa into a hug. Lexa complies for a moment before pulling away slightly, gently.

"Listen to me," she says. "The horn blows at sunrise, but you have an hour before the fight. I already asked one of the guards to get Titus. He will escort you to a private room just a few hundred feet from the courtyard. You can prepare there, even if it's just preparing yourself. When the horn sounds again, it will be time to fight. You will find the courtyard easily. There will be two armed guards to watch over you until then. Do you understand?"

Clarke nods. "Yes, but Lexa-"

"Clarke." Lexa's hands find their way back to her cheeks, warm and smooth despite the calluses. "You can do this. I believe in you…." She pauses and then, "I trust you."

Clarke stares of her. She can't think of anything to say in return, anything that will express everything going on inside of her. So she doesn't say a word. Instead, she takes a step forward and their lips meet. Lexa keeps cupping her cheeks, but she kisses back. It is slow and almost sad, the last, desperate connection of two people unsure if this will be the last.

After a long moment, Clarke draws back to see shimmering in Lexa's eyes. All she can think to say is, "Thank you, Lexa. For trusting me."

Lexa stares at her. "Clarke… I-"

The door opens and Titus is standing there. "Clarke," he says simply. "It's time."

"Okay." Clarke looks at Lexa. They stand there for a moment, staring at each other, drinking each other in. Then, Clarke gives her a small nod. There are no words. She turns to grab the spear and follows Titus out of the room and down the hall.

* * *

When Clarke emerges into the courtyard, the sun has risen above the horizon. The air is cool but not cold. There is a dewy tang. If it weren't for a fight to the death, this is what Clarke would call the perfect morning for a hunt.

Except there will be no hunting today. At least, not of animals. Everett stands a few feet from Clarke, smirking down at her. They are surrounded by a crowd of roaring people. Everett winks at a woman behind him, who smiles encouragingly back. Clarke realizes with a sinking stomach that it's his  _houmon_ , his wife. On a dais to the right sits the Assembly in a line of thrones. It looks just like when Lexa fought Roan, only this time, Lexa sits in the center seat, with Titus standing by her side.

Once the crowd has quieted down at least somewhat, Lexa gets to her feet. " _Shof op!_ " she calls, her voice carrying clearly across the courtyard. The crowd goes silent. Lexa's next words chill Clarke a little. She speaks the words Clarke heard echoing from a distance not so long ago, as she pushed through the crowd, trying to reach Lexa and Roan's fight in time.

" _Hashta soulou gonplei, bilaik won hedon noumou: du souda wan op deyon!"_  Lexa's eyes find Clarke's, and they soften a little, along with her voice. Clarke wishes she could tell what she is thinking. " _Yo na jomp in."_

Clarke takes a deep breath. Without looking at Everett, she turns and walks to the guard who holds her weapon. He hands her the long wooden stake that the spear has now become. Clarke spent an entire hour sharpening one end of the pole with the broken off blade of the spearhead. Now, all that is left of it is a long wooden pole with a sharpened end and a blunt end. Clarke waves the guard off and turns back to face Everett. As she pivots, she glances at Lexa and catches her eye. This time, she can tell what she is thinking: " _Clarke, what are you doing?_ "

Clarke takes a deep breath and focuses on Everett. He holds a massive sword nearly half the size of Clarke and he's dressed in thick armor. There's no way Clarke's toothpick is going to puncture that.

"Well?" Clarke yells across the courtyard, because she is not going straight into that slab of metal that passes for a sword. "You wanted  _Wanheda_? Come and get her!"

Everett laughs and hefts his blade. He turns to glance back at his wife one more time and then charges at Clarke. He swings the weapon up and…

Clarke dodges to the side just as the sword comes down. It buries itself into the ground where she had been standing just a moment before. Clarke stabs at his side with the stake, searching for a gap in his armor. But all she gets is a resounding  _clang!_  Everett lashes out with one arm and shoves her away. Clarke skitters back as he pulls his sword from the ground. He whirls with the weapon, swinging as he turns towards Clarke. She dodges, feeling the stir of air as the blade misses her stomach by mere inches. Clarke skips backwards several feet and Everett takes a second to grin at her.

 _He's having fun_ , she realizes. Perhaps Everett doesn't fear death. Perhaps he's seen too much of it to fear it. Or perhaps he has simply seen through the façade of  _Wanheda_  and sees Clarke for what she is: just a scared girl who fell from the sky and made too many mistakes.

Everett charges again. This time, he goes with the side swipe first. Clarke twirls to her right. Another swing. She rolls to the ground. Everett thinks he has her as he brings the sword down. Clarke just barely manages to roll a few feet to the side. She uses the momentum of her roll and the leverage of her stake to push herself up onto her feet. She strikes again. Another hard contact with metal. Clarke feels the shiver of it all the way up to her shoulder.

Everett swings out with his left arm, catching Clarke in the side of her head. The blow sends her sprawling, but she manages to keep a hold of the stake. She leaps to her feet just as Everett rips his sword from the ground. He whirls on her, giving her no time to recover, and advances. He begins to twirl the sword around his head. Clarke swears she can hear it whistling through the air. He does this for several moments, taking slow, measured steps. Then, he lunges, and the hardest and fastest swing of the fight comes at Clarke. She slides to the left, but she isn't fast enough. The blade clips her side and Clarke yells out in pain. She rolls away from Everett, twirling out with the stake as he comes after her again. The side of the stake slams into his neck and he begins to cough, backing off.

Clarke takes the moment of retreat to breathe. She glances down at her side, checking the damage with her fingers. If she gets through this with only this wound, she'll live, but she will definitely need a lot of stitches. Clarke looks up at Lexa, sitting on the dais just a dozen yards away. Even from here, Clarke can see how much she is holding back. Her jaw is clenched, her hands gripping the arms of her chair so tight that her knuckles have turned white. Then, her eyes widen.

Clarke realizes her mistake. She got distracted. She lost track of Everett. All of the sudden, he's on top of her, coming at her from her left. Clarke hits the ground, the sword stirring the air above her. Still on the ground, Clarke stabs at Everett's knee. Somehow, the stake finds a chink in his armor, and Everett howls in pain, falling to one knee. He's still above Clarke, though, and he glares down at her. He reaches down and grabs Clarke's ankle. Then, he swings.

Clarke twists at the last moment. The sword hits the ground inches away from her, sending a spray of sharp pebbles into the side of Clarke's face. Vision shot, Clarke yanks back on the stake. Everett bellows again and Clarke wipes the dirt from her eyes. She blinks, only to find Everett already on top of her. He draws back his fist, and-

Clarke sees stars, even though the blow only glances off the side of her head. She tries to lash out with the stake, but she can do nothing with Everett pummeling her. She kicks out with both her legs and makes contact.

"AGH!"

His bad knee. Everett falters and Clarke takes the split second to get her bearings. She lunges at Everett, the stake out. He glances up at the last moment and see her. He leans to the side and grabs Clarke's wrist as she stumbles past him. He rips the stake from her hand and flings it across the courtyard. With his other hand, he grabs Clarke by the neck and slams her to the ground.

Clarke nearly blacks out from the pain. The next thing she knows, she is on the ground beneath the sword, which is still buried into the stone itself. Clarke's neck is just beneath the blade, close to the hilt, where Everett is putting his hands, preparing to push down with his huge weight to chop off her head with the leverage. Like the guillotine Clarke used to read about in her history textbooks on the Ark, all those worlds ago.

Everett is above her head, so Clarke reaches up and jams her thumb into the hole in his knee. Everett screams, and his weight comes down. Clarke just barely manages to roll out of the way as the sword crunches into the ground. Everett reaches for her. Clarke pivots on her knee, grabbing the blade of the spear from her boot in the same motion, and shoves it into his throat.

There is a shocked silence. Everett stares at her in disbelief, blood spurting from his wound. He coughs wetly a few times before slowly falling to the side. He shifts a little bit, and then goes utterly still. There is a scream and the woman from before runs out from the crowd. She runs to Everett's body, but before she can get there, Clarke reaches out and pulls the blade from his throat. More blood spills from him. She finds the stake a few feet away and tosses the blade over to it. It's immediately clear that they once formed a spear.

Another moment of silence. Then, murmurs sweep through the crowd. " _Wanheda_." There is no chanting, not like when Lexa killed Nia. No, there is only that endless whisper of " _Wanheda_ " that Clarke has almost become used to.

Tired, but not from the fight. Clarke looks over at Lexa to see relief and sadness and understanding written all over her face. She nods, once. Clare turns away. She starts towards the tower, and the crowd parts before her in a wide girth. Afraid to touch her. Afraid to even be near  _Wanheda_.

The Commander of Death. And maybe it's true, because nothing has proven otherwise.

_Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds._

_Now I am become Wanheda._

**Author's Note:**

> "Heya, Heda, Bandrona. Ai laik Everet kom Boudalankru." - Hello, Commander, Ambassadors. I am Everett of the Rock Line.
> 
> "Hashta soulou gonplei, bilaik won hedon noumou: du souda wan op deyon!" - In single combat, there is but one rule: Someone must die today!
> 
> "Yo na jomp in." - You may begin.


End file.
